Sometimes I wish I were more articulate. But lucky for me, some people are paid to actually write articulate things. In the whole debate of nature/nurture and being gay, the New Yorker just came out with a brilliant piece, written in the first person by a gay... sheep. A sample:
Enough already. I’m Troy, a gay sheep, and I’ll tell you the truth. Although I’m conflicted about calling myself a gay sheep, because I don’t like to think that my sexuality defines me; let’s just say that I’m a sheep who happens to be gay. Being gay is just a simple biological fact, like having a fleecy undercoat or bleating while you’re being shorn, or getting aroused whenever you see a bulky turtleneck sweater.
I think it's awesome. I do get angry at times and just become another screaming banshee, at the level of all the Fred Phelps and Pat Robersons. Not good.
But thank goodness there's people like Paul Rudnick, with the wit and the what to write amazing stuff that is smart and to the point without being drab.
And his last paragraph is genius:
Right about then is when I met Doug. I saw him across the pasture, and I just knew. I assumed there’d be talk—he’s a black sheep. And, I’ll confess, I used the oldest line in the barn. I sidled right up to him and I said, “Baa baa, black sheep, have you any wool?” And he looked me right in the eye and murmured, “Yes, sir, yes, sir, three bags full.” And I replied, “I can see that.” We’ve been together ever since, and we don’t care what anyone thinks. Because, baby, at the end of the day we’re all just animals
Thank goodness for good writing and intelligence with a touch of humor!